


Give Me a Sign

by paulatheprokaryote



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, Deaf Character, Feel-good, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 14:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6859639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paulatheprokaryote/pseuds/paulatheprokaryote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <img/>
</p>
<p>Learning Sign Language isn't so hard after all.</p>
<p>Gorgeous banner by dust & decay @the-dark-arts.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me a Sign

There’s this feeling that anyone even a little bit different instinctively gets around the age that they become self aware. Unfortunately, the age also seems to line up with the age of emotional instability and floods of hormones resulting in angst. It’s the feeling of being an outsider.

Now, I don’t mean that the other Hogwarts students were particularly mean to me or were excluding me just for the hell of it. Most of them smiled awkwardly in my general direction during classes, would eventually pass the peas when they could finally figure out what I was pointing to, and all around acknowledged my presence. The problem was, I think, that they were so afraid to offend me that they didn’t even know how to go about trying to befriend me. I suppose I didn't go about trying to befriend them either. After all, with the proper cat no one really needs other humans anyway. During the summer breaks, I usually spend most of my time with other members of my community rather than fellow Hogwarts students, so maybe I’m not doing my part to get to know them.

I don’t particularly consider myself ‘disabled’ or ‘handicapped’ but rather feel as though I’m experiencing the human experience slightly different than my peers. I think that's a message that they don't understand, yet maybe I'm not conveying it enough. "Hearing impaired" is one of those phrases that people that clearly weren't deaf came up with. Another funny phrase someone came up with is "oralism" which is just the fancy term for lipreading. Before you try to make any phrase official, you should consult teenagers. If they snicker, pick a better name. Some of us are great at lipreading (yours truly) some are hilariously terrible at it (there's entire videos devoted to this on the muggle internet if you get bored). If you ask the community, their resounding answer will be firmly that we aren't impaired. We aren't defective. There's nothing wrong or lesser about the way that we experience the world. Pity is the last thing I need. It's true that I'll never hear the soft, swaying melodies of music the way they do, but that doesn't mean I don't experience music. The vibrations fill up every cell of my body, the rhythm courses through my vein. I don't hear it, but I feel it all the same. Once, in the library, I was poring over Myron Wagtail's autobiography, "Weird Sisters, Weird Brothers" when Albus Potter, fellow Slytherin and dreamy quidditch player, asked me if I liked the Weird Sisters. He then immediately rubbed his neck uncomfortably and looked abashed. I get it, don't remind the deaf girl she's deaf. I hope you can imagine the look of sheer surprise when I nodded along with my trademark lopsided grin (my mother said we should trademark it, but she's also supposed to say that). Eyes dancing with excitement, he rambled on for a solid fifteen minutes about how one time he met Myron at some awful Ministry affair and that he lent him a light and even though Albus would never ever smoke, he took one anyway and choked incessantly, causing Myron to laugh at him. "Most embarrassing and awesome moment of my life!" He said proudly.

Regardless of my own antisocial nature and lack of proper effort, it stung quite a bit to find out that I was the only Slytherin fifth year not invited to some ‘pow-wow’ as my roommate, Margaret, had put it. She insisted that Evelyn, my other roommate, keep it a secret from me. "Whatever you do, remember not to tell Dana about it," She hissed. I immediately felt the overwhelming urge to let out a sob or go on a rage fest, but I couldn’t just yet. I chomped down on my quivering lip, trying to bite back the dramatic tears sure to wash away any trace of makeup I'd managed to smear on my pale skin. My saliva felt thick and viscous and I couldn’t swallow it. The only way I knew about said ‘pow-wow’ was because I was pretending to be asleep and had read her lips with one eye cracked. No tears until they left or they’d know I had been spying. The Slytherin girls had been leaving a lot lately for what I assume must be other ‘pow-wows’ and parties and all the things that 15 year old girls would like to be invited to, deaf or not. 

Margaret was the mothering kind. She notoriously will start a conversation with one of us and mindlessly retie our ties or cast an antiwrinkling spell on our clothes. She doesn't even mean to. She's also exceptionally bossy. Evelyn, on the otherhand, was a giant flirt. I don't think she even realized she was flirting until her victim was serenading her and buying her chocolates and then she had to come up with a polite way of rejecting the poor boy. Reece and Kelly had been dating for a year now, but often had uncomfortable screaming matches in the dormitory about god knows what. There's nothing worse than palpable tension when you're trying to sleep for a particularly nasty Potions exam.

The very second that Margaret, Evelyn, Reece, and Kelly left the dormitory, arms linked and giggles reverberating down the staircase, I couldn’t hold it back any longer. The tears spilled over, dripping steadily down the slightly crooked curve of my freckled nose. I cupped my face in my palms, trying to calm myself down. It’s not fair to them that I feel like they owe me an invitation. Of course they don’t. I know I’m just being petty. I determinedly sniffed my final sniff, wiped away the last of my tears, and pulled myself together again faster than it took to fall apart. I decided to walk the grounds to clear my mind, as I often did.

I slipped a heavy robe on, changed into my coziest wool socks, and wandered out of the dungeons to the frigid grounds. The crisp air whipped at my face, cooling my stinging eyes. If only the wind could carry off my heavy heart too.

My thoughts turned to my mother, insisting to everyone who would listen that I belonged in Ravenclaw like her because I learned nonverbal spells at an early age. Not that I had much choice. Everywhere she went, she was surrounded by people. She drew them like sugar drew ants. I felt a twinge of jealousy at how easy everything was for her. I wanted to write to her, tell her how I was feeling so lonely, but I felt too embarrassed to tell her. She would tell me that I could go to school with my other friends and I just can’t have that kind of temptation. It would be too easy to walk away from Hogwarts. I’m part of two very different worlds that are very different from what most people considered normal. I didn’t want to choose between being popular with my deaf friends and neglecting magic or being lonely with magical students that barely knew me just because of minor communication barriers. Despite the biting cold, I dipped my purple painted toes into the Black Lake for the fish to nibble on. My mum always said it was a free pedicure and she also always said that any time you’re feeling down, you should go get a pedicure. There’s no way you can feel bad when you look so good. As my toes tinged blue and I could no longer feel blood pulsing through them, I decided that she probably wouldn’t approve of my pedicure and pulled my toes back out of the water, sending tiny fish scattering for the cover of kelp.

With a huff, I pulled myself up from the chilly rock I had been leaning against and trudged back to the castle. The freezing air whipping my hair across my face brought up the longing for warm hands to hold mine or someone else's pockets to slip my hands into. I'd prefer those pockets to belong to a certain green eyed, messy haired Slytherin. I might have a minor crush on Albus Potter. Nothing major, no swooning at his mere presence or dropping bottles of ink everytime his face pops up. It's just that he's always outstandingly nice. He'd sit down beside me at lunch and tell me all about Myron Wagtail or some quidditch nonsense I didn't even bother to keep up with. He'd say something like "I read this book today that I think you'd really like" and ramble on and on about the plot of a story that I have no idea why he'd think I'd like. He's just that sort of person. I’d be fine now in the warmth of the castle though. No pockets needed.

“Asphodel” I signed to the wall that guarded the Slytherin common room. I waited several seconds before the wall seemed to recognize me and let me pass. The green hued light streamed through the windows, temporarily blinding me. As the spots in my vision cleared, I glanced around the common room, recognizing that many of my peers were staring at me excitedly. Margaret, Evelyn, Reece, Kelly, Albus, Scorpius, Marcus, Declan, Nathaniel, and Ezra all hopped to their feet at once, causing me to take an involuntary step backwards. Was this some sort of practical joke? Maybe they were going to jump me! Ezra was from the East End after all! Instead of pouncing on me as I convinced myself would probably happen, everyone in the group waved their right hand slowly, mouthing ‘hello’. I scrunched my eyebrows together in confusion, but waved back slowly, also mouthing the greeting, a quizzical look plastered on my face.

Margaret stepped forward, beaming like a stray ray of sunlight. She began spelling out words using her hands mouthing along at the same time. “We’ve been practicing,” she began with rapid fingerspelling. Her palms were facing each other as she rotated them before she made the distinct L shape with her fingers, indicating “sign language” and then pointed to the rest of the group. She wasn’t using British Sign Language word order, but rather English word order, but that was okay by me either way.

I was speechless. I raised my shaky hand to my chest. “For me?” I asked dumbfounded. They all nodded, breaking into grins that matched Margaret’s.

“We aren’t very cheese.” Albus signed, pressing his fingertips to the palm of his other hand, twisting it twice at the wrist.

“What?” I mouthed, wagging my finger in utter confusion. Scorpius let out a laugh as he nudged his dearest friend. “Good, not cheese” he signed. It was my turn to laugh. “Those aren’t even close!”

“We mostly learned how to fingerspell so far." Evelyn spelled out painstakingly slow.

For the second time that day, I was biting back tears. I touched my hand to my chin, pulling it down and away. “Thank you.”

Mother Margaret moved first, engulfing me in a tight hug. Then Evelyn. Then the entire group of fifth year Slytherins. Maybe, just maybe, I had friends here too and I didn’t even realize it.


End file.
